


Crumble

by The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Communication, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, Shower Sex, Vulnerability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:28:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22536259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff/pseuds/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff
Summary: 23 December 2017: Usually they feel down this time of year, but Simon & Baz are actually managing to have a good day. Simon’s nervous about visiting Baz’s family for Christmas, but he’s trying not to think about it. Baz is just happy to be close to Simon. After a much-needed nap, they decide to share a shower.***He’s got his forehead resting against the top of mine (tall git), and I can feel his breath starting to waver against my skin. I’m working him up, I think, but I’m also trying to work myself up. Sometimes I need that. Sometimes I just...need a minute. Just a minute to knock down all the walls stood in my way. Stood between us.It used to feel like there were walls up between us all the time, even when we were this close. It was partly my fault, really; I put them there.But the good thing about putting them there’s that I get to take them down. I can take them down. It just takes a minute.I’m throbbing inside, in my heart and my belly and my prick. But my head isn’t. Not today. That makes the walls pretty easy to crumble.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 42
Kudos: 405





	Crumble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WarriorBeeoftheSea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarriorBeeoftheSea/gifts).



> For Bee, who deserves all the gift fics 💜
> 
> Thank you to the lovely lafbaeyette for the last-minute beta-read. 💜
> 
> Hey y’all! I break my 5-week hiatus to bring you...shower sex I guess. But if you know me at all you know they’ll be in their feelings, too. That’s just how it be.
> 
> Hope y’all enjoy! Writing has been a challenge since the last time I posted; the countdown wore me out more than I thought, + I’ve had a ton of unforeseen personal stuff going on. But things are looking up!

**BAZ**

I wake up in Simon Snow’s bed.

I jolt, and for a moment I’m stuck in that gauzy place between consciousness and sleep, wondering if the day’s broken outside, whether…

No.

No, Simon and I took a nap.

His hand is on my face, his thumb stroking gently over my cheekbone…

Awake, then.

I open my eyes.

“Time?” I ask.

He shrugs as best he can, lying on his side the way he is. “Does it matter?”

I let my eyes search his face. It’s a hard time for us, these days leading up to... _well._ Last year around this time was the worst, I think. Everything was supposed to be left behind us, but then the winter crept up, and Simon started pulling away…

He’s not pulling away now. He still has his hand on my face, and it’s _warm,_ and I reach up to cover it with my own. 

I don’t want to ask how he’s feeling. I’m afraid of the answer. But we _talk,_ now, Simon and me. We try to.

“Did you sleep?” I ask instead.

“A bit.” He crinkles his nose. “Naps always make me feel weird. Sort of, I dunno. Like the world’s upside-down.”

Napping wasn’t part of the plan. 

I came over earlier and helped Simon and Bunce bake biscuits (their Christmas tradition; _ours_ now, I suppose). Then Penny was on her way to her parents’, and Simon and I had lunch. I did some of my reading for uni while he took out his frustrations on some video game. He called me a swot for doing schoolwork over winter break, and I thought—not for the first time—that we were having a good day, all things considered. 

He somehow ended up convincing me to play with him— _somehow,_ as if I could ever deny him anything. He tried to teach me how to use that infernal machine—the _Xbox—_

 _“No, it’s_ this _button—”_

_“Too many blasted buttons—”_

_“It’s not that hard—”_

_“Honestly, Snow—”_

_“First you’re pants at swords; now this. S’like I learn something new every day—”_

_“You’re insufferable—”_

_“You’re about to die—”_

_“I’m already bloody_ dead; _we’ve been over this—”_

And then he was pushing me down into the sofa, the bloody Xbox forgotten (thank _snakes_ ). 

“ _What about your game, Sn—_ ”

He kissed me so hard, the rest of his name must’ve fallen down his throat. When he pulled back, his pupils were blown wide and shining with something new and exciting and _good._

“ _You’re a bit hot when you’ve no idea what you’re doing,_ ” he said.

I cocked an eyebrow at him. “ _You’re saying you get off on me being shit at video games_.”

“ _No. No, I_ …”

He told me later that my frustration reminded him of how things were at Watford. How he’s always wanted me, even when he didn’t know. (Though he didn’t say so in so many words.)

Before that, he pulled me off the sofa and into his bedroom, and when he shut the door, he pulled my clothes off faster than I thought him capable. 

“ _Are you sure_?” I asked, because we talk now. We stumble through. 

“ _Yeah. You_?”

“ _Yeah._ ”

It was _good._ It always is. 

And afterwards, when I curled in to him, we fell asleep naked and pressed together and _warm._

He’s still stroking my face, now, his eyes flitting around like he’s trying to take all of me in at once.

“The world’s not upside-down, love,” I tell him. His hand’s so incredibly _warm_ beneath mine. Against my cheek…

“Nah. Not kissed you yet.”

“What?”

He yawns, and I catch it. I’m irritated for still finding him inflammably handsome even in the face of his gaping maw. 

“S’what you said, innit?” he says. “That night. The first time, y’know. Said I thought the world was upside-down.” He shifts to an elbow and props his head in his hand. “Think my therapist might call that _projecting._ ”

I can’t believe he _remembers_ that. I should say something nice, I think, but all that comes out is, “That’s a big word for you, Snow. Can you use it in a sentence?”

“Fuck you, you prick.”

“I’ve been well-fucked enough, thank you.”

“Hm. Have you?”

My ears nearly prick up at that. I’m almost afraid they _do._ “ _Have_ I?”

He tries to shrug again. “Thought maybe you’d fancy a shower—”

I shift to prop myself on an elbow, too. “And _I’m_ the one who’s projecting?”

“Been a good day, yeah? I just…”

  
  


**SIMON**

I just want something _good._

It _has_ been a good day, not like this time last year. I’m pulling Baz close instead of pushing him away…

It’s getting easier, being close to Baz. It’s not _easy_ all the time; sometimes it’s just bloody _hard_. And sometimes I still want to be left alone. But a lot of the time I don’t. A lot of the time I want him right here with me. Right here beside me. 

Tomorrow’s our anniversary. I’m letting him take me to visit his family in Oxford, and I’m trying not to think about it too much. I talk to my therapist—my _new_ therapist—about it, about how I’ve been having nightmares about the night I drained Hampshire’s magic, about how I’ve thought about backing out of this trip so many fucking times, about how that makes me _feel._ (I have to say, talking about feelings is absolute bollocks. _Feelings themselves_ are absolute bollocks, if you get down to it. Except the good ones, I suppose. And I guess you can’t have the good ones without the bad ones, so really this whole _being human_ thing is more than a bit cocked up.) 

So I’m trying not to think about tomorrow just now. There’s a _right now_ to think about, and right now, Baz and I are alone. I can make him feel good. I’m _good_ at making him feel good, I’m not modest about it. And of course he’s bloody perfect at sex—just like everything else, pretty much. Except how to properly use a sword. And _Dark Souls._ (Maybe I should’ve started him out on the Nintendo…) 

He’s still got an eyebrow arched my way. “You just _what_ , Snow?” 

I can feel myself starting to blush. 

I really, _really_ bloody love sex. Especially with Baz. ( _Only_ with Baz.) But a lot of the time, I don’t know what to say to get us started, and then I just end up doing something like snogging him into the sofa. Or making an arse out of myself.

I roll my eyes. “Naps make me feel weird. Showers make me feel good. And.” I shrug. It doesn’t work very well with how I’m positioned. 

Baz tilts his head. “You’re trying to lure me into your shower.”

“Damn bloody well right.” 

“Very alluring proposition.” 

"Those're big words," I tease. "Can you use them in a sentence?"

Baz raises an eyebrow at me. Again. Of course. "I just did."

I roll my eyes again. 

And then I roll on top of him.

**BAZ**

I almost thought we wouldn't make it _to_ the shower.

Simon very nearly brought me off in bed. With his mouth. (He's _incredible_ with his mouth.) His tail was thrashing madly by the time he pulled off.

" _Not fair, Snow—_ " I was practically whining, which by that time was only mildly embarrassing.

" _Sure it is. We're not in the shower yet._ "

Well. Now we are. 

I’m letting him set the pace. I always try to, because the last thing I want is to scare him off. To make him pull away again…

He’s kissing me, delving into my mouth with his tongue, one hand clinging to my waist and the other cradling the back of my head, my damp hair threaded through his fingers. The shower wall is cold against my back and my arse, but I don’t bloody care. Not when he’s here to warm me. Not when he’s here _with_ me. 

My hands are at his back, and I’m trying not to be greedy. 

It’s easier to touch him now; I don’t always feel like he might break, like I’ll lose him if I touch him too hard. But I’m still mindful. Still cautious. 

I get braver every day, I think. Every time he lets me in. 

And now, under the heat of the water and the steam, I’m letting my fingertips press into the muscle of his back, pressing him closer to me.

He’s never close enough. Not even when he’s inside me. Not even when his _magic_ used to fill me. 

He drops the hand in my hair to press against the small of my back, and I think for a moment that maybe I’m never close enough for him, either. It might even be _true…_

He pulls away from my mouth, then, and I’m almost afraid it’s over. That we’re done. It was like that, sometimes, when we first started. He’d get too overwhelmed, and we’d have to stop. I tried not to take it personally, and tried to give him space, but it wasn’t always easy. 

It’s not happened that way for a while—a month or so, maybe—but I still wonder…

He steps back, not too far, and looks me up and down, stroking a hand down my chest and belly as he goes. It makes me feel more naked than I already am, which is both terrifying and terrifyingly arousing, somehow. 

When his eyes land on my cock, he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. (I’m not sure that he knows.) I drop my forehead against the top of his head of wet curls, and then I look down at him, too. It always amazes me, to find Simon Snow hard for _me…_

His knuckles are still brushing along my belly, striking a match inside of me every time he comes closer and closer to…

  
  


**SIMON**

Baz has such a pretty cock. 

I should’ve expected it, really, but it still took me by surprise the first time I saw it. When I finally worked up the courage to see, to _look._

All of him’s just lovely. That’s just how it’s always been. And he’s all mine. 

He’s got his forehead resting against the top of mine (tall git), and I can feel his breath starting to waver against my skin. I’m working him up, I think, but I’m also trying to work _myself_ up. Sometimes I need that. Sometimes I just...need a minute. Just a minute to knock down all the walls stood in my way. Stood between us. 

It used to feel like there were walls up between us all the time, even when we were this close. It was partly my fault, really; I put them there. 

But the good thing about putting them there’s that I get to take them down. I _can_ take them down. It just takes a minute. 

I’m throbbing inside, in my heart and my belly and my prick. But my _head_ isn’t. Not today. That makes the walls pretty easy to crumble. 

Baz’s breath hitches as I drag my knuckles down through the trail of black hair low on his belly. It sends such a thrill through me, and it’s so good that sometimes I wonder how I was ever afraid…

I pull him closer with one hand against the small of his back. Then I wrap the other around his prick. I can feel him _pulse_ in my palm, and I want to tell him, “ _See? Alive. Alive._ Alive.”

I press him back into the wall again as I start to stroke him. And then I take his other hand in mine and help him take hold of my cock. (He waits for me, most of the time. Sometimes he’ll ask. Sometimes he won’t. Sometimes I just have to show him what I really want.) 

My tail _thwaps_ against the wall behind me as he wraps his long, cool fingers around me. (I try to pull my wings in a bit so I don’t send all the toiletries flying. Especially Baz’s; he keeps things here now.) 

I push my hips into his hand.

And then I fall against him. Kissing him. 

  
  


**BAZ**

Simon’s mouth is hot and wet and _mine._

The hand that isn’t working over my cock is palming the side of my face. I mirror him, and use my mind’s eye to try and picture what we must look like. Damp hair clinging to our faces, cheeks flushed, mouths working together. Hands moving between our thighs…

It’s something I’ve pictured too many times over the years, but none of those fantasies could ever live up to what we have right now. 

_Love._

So much love. 

I’m already close; he made sure of that when he used his mouth on me in the bed. 

I make a noise against his lips as his thumb brushes my frenulum. My knees are threatening to buckle, and I’m pushing my hips into his fist—

I have to let go of his mouth just to breathe. 

“ _Simon…_ ”

“Yeah,” he breathes, and he starts to stroke me faster. He drops his forehead against my shoulder, the hand on my face moving to squeeze my arse. A whine slips out of me—because I can’t bloody help it—but I’m too turned on to care anymore. I let him see me like this. I let him have the sounds I make. They’re all for him, anyway.

I practically whimper when he moves his fingers into the cleft of my arse and starts to rub them against my rim. It’s so _much,_ all at once. His hand on my cock. His fingertips brushing sensitive, vulnerable skin. The heaving of his breath as I try to keep rhythm to give him pleasure, to make him feel _good…_

I can’t, not when I’m so close. 

I keep stroking him anyway, even as he stokes the flame between my legs. The flame in my _heart…_

I’m so _close..._

“Yeah, baby,” he breathes against my shoulder when I moan again. “C’mon.”

I’m leaning back into the wall to keep myself from falling. I’m light-headed, and so close to the edge I can—

“Come on, love,” Simon says.

I open my eyes. 

It’s looking down that does me in. His belly heaving with his breath, his fist working between my legs. My hand on his cock, the sound of his heart pounding and matching the pulsing against my palm. I watch as I swipe my thumb over his swollen crown, as I spread the precome that’s started beading there…

That’s when he lets out a debauched moan, and I tip. 

  
  


**SIMON**

He’s perfectly beautiful when he comes, too. 

The most lovely sounds pour out of him, and then he’s spilling over my fist, his hips stuttering against my hand, his hole clenching under my fingertips. He’s sunk down against the wall a bit, but some of his come still manages to land low on my belly, and then my prick. He must see it, I think, because he uses his thumb to swipe it over the head—just like he did with my precome a second ago—and seeing Baz’s come shining in my slit just about pushes me over the edge.

I let go of him and drop to my knees. 

“Simon…” Baz is still leaning against the wall.

His breath catches when I work my lips over his crown. I suck gently, and I don’t look at him. (It’s _hard_ to look at him when we’re like this, sometimes. A lot of the time.) 

He moans and threads his fingers through my wet hair. The water from the shower pours down his arm and onto my head. Down my face. Between my lips and his prick. 

I let my tongue flick against the underside, and then I pull off—

—and then Baz is pulling me to my feet again, then dropping to his knees so fast I almost miss it. 

He looks up at me, and I have to look. I have to be brave. And when I look in his big grey eyes, they’re so full of love it almost hurts. 

I push his wet hair out of his face. 

“Can I?” he says. I know what he’s asking, and I want it. I _want_ it…

I want to say what he said to me, that night in the back of Shep’s truck. _You don’t have to ask._ And I think maybe I’m getting there. That maybe someday—no, not _maybe_. That someday he won’t need to anymore. 

I nod my head. 

Cold hands. Cold mouth. My hand still in his hair as his head moves between my legs. 

He’s working the base of my prick with one hand and cupping my arse with the other, and when he moves his lips it’s just—

“ _Fuck._ ” 

Sometimes I’m able to watch him. Sometimes I need to close my eyes. 

Today I lean my head back against the wall and just let myself feel. Every single spark jumping over my skin, the way Baz makes me feel like I’m about to go off. The way my heart feels like it’s about to burst from my chest and wrap itself ‘round his. (Sort of makes me think of that movie _Alien,_ and I really don’t want to think about that just now.) 

How much I love him. The way I’m starting to thrust gently against his mouth.

I almost stop doing that (it’s embarrassing) but then Baz moans around me and I think he _likes_ it. That makes me want to stop and keep on at the same time. 

I choose the scary option. To keep on. To look down at my boyfriend making me feel good, to cradle his head in both of my hands and—

“ _Baz…_ ”

“Mm.” 

“Gonna come…”

“ _Mm._ ” He squeezes my arse and starts sucking harder, moving faster—

It sounds stupid, but it’s almost like stars bursting every time. Like Baz is taking me out of this world. Like we’re back in our room in Mummers surrounded by a galaxy, a world so big it’s terrifying and comforting all at once. 

Because he’s here with me. And _with_ me—

I growl as I start to pulse into his mouth, and he holds onto me. He won’t let me go. He makes me feel _safe…_

I’m hearing myself make noise, and watching myself shudder against Baz’s mouth, and when his eyes flick up to mine, I don’t look away. 

There’s one last big wave as he sucks the last of my come from my cock…

Then I pull him back to his feet—

—And I kiss him.

  
  


**BAZ**

Simon’s tongue is in my mouth again, his tail coiling itself down my leg as he presses himself in close. 

I take it all. I take everything he’s willing to give me, and I’m thankful. 

He holds my hips against the shower wall and snogs me stupid. I knead his arse in both of my hands, holding him to _me._

It’s so good. It’s always so _good..._

He stops kissing me eventually and slumps against me, and we stand here letting the hot water rinse us clean. 

He mumbles something into my neck. 

“What was that, Snow?”

He makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like _harrumph._ Then he pulls back, just slightly. “Said _love you._ ” 

Those words...I don’t think they’ll ever stop making my heart beat this fast. It’s like Simon Snow is the one reason my heart can beat at all.

“I love you,” I tell him. 

He waits a beat, then, “Nervous about tomorrow.” 

“It’s alright.”

“Oh, sure. It’s alright. What do I even _say_ ? Like. _Hey, I know this is the first time you’re seeing me outside of Coven meetings since I stole your magic. Very sorry about that. I’ve been too afraid to face you, you see. Also I’m shagging your son now._ ” 

I scoff, because sometimes Simon Snow can be a sarcastic shit. “We don’t have to be so specific.” I nudge the side of his head with mine. “It’s going to be fine. They know how much you mean to me.” 

“Hm, have you told them how stupidly in love with me you are?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.”

“And did they believe you?”

I roll my eyes, but only because he can’t see me do it. “ _Yes,_ Simon. Do _you_?” 

There’s a pause, and for a moment I’m afraid our good day is about to tip to bad. We can handle it, if it does. But that doesn’t mean I _want_ it to—

He pulls back to look at me. His blue eyes are still blown near-black, and his curls are so wet they’ve gone wavy. “I think I do, actually.” 

I raise both brows at him. “That’s very enlightened of you.” 

“Well.” He shrugs inside of my arms. “When someone shows you who they are, believe them.” 

“Are you.” I tilt my head. “Are you quoting Maya Angelou? First Homer, now this?” 

The side of his mouth quirks up. “Yeah. Heard it on telly.” 

Well. That certainly makes more sense than Snow actually _reading_. Not that he’s not smart enough, but he seems to prefer spending his free time killing video game monsters these days. 

“I see…” I almost don’t ask. I probably _shouldn’t,_ but I can’t help myself. “And what about you? Are you stupidly in love with me?”

He snorts, and it sends a jolt through my heart at the thought that no, he _isn’t—_

“Told you,” he says then. “Think I’ve been stupidly in love with you since before _I_ bloody knew I was.” His face is flushing scarlet, and I’m not sure if it’s from the heat, or the sex, or his admission. Maybe all of the above. (Personally I’m blushing as much as I’m able.) “Probably this was your plot all along. To lure me into your heart and out of my pants.” 

“Yes, Snow. You caught me. Between schoolwork and football and endless pining I somehow found the time to devise the perfect plan. I’m a plotter.” 

“Bloody well knew it, I did,” he says, then he rests his head against my shoulder. I hug him closer, and he lets me. 

“You’ve always been part of my plan, Simon,” I whisper. 

Then he lifts up his head, and takes my face in his hands. (They’re wrinkled from the water, his hands…)

And then he kisses me. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know how y’all liked this one! Side note: honestly not sure whether Dark Souls would be the best thing for Simon, but I felt like he’d really enjoy it & it’s all I could think of besides like, Call of Duty. (I may just be looking through the catalogue of Mr HH’s Xbox games.)
> 
> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thehoneyedhufflepuff) I'm a disaster over there.


End file.
